A Birthday To Remember
by Brokenspell77
Summary: On the day that Randy Orton turns 33, he sits alone feeling miserable. His life has become uneventful and dull. He wants something new and exciting that brings a thrill back to his life. Could all that come along in a shocking and very unlikely package? Will he have a monumental birthday after all? WARNING: Explicit slash/Swearing. *ONE SHOT* CM Punk/Randy Orton. Punkton.


**I'm back! But this is so not what I intended to return with. I am working on a new multi chaptered story that will hopefully appear soonish. Hopefully this fic will tide you over until then. So, it's set on Randy's birthday, and unfortunately the idea for the story only hit me whilst watching Raw on Monday. The day of Randy's birthday! NOT HELPFUL! Lol. But hey six days late isn't too bad right?! **

**I hope you all enjoy Wrestlemania tonight too. Come on Punk! Longshot though! And I'm hoping for a victory for The Shield, and an after match heel turn by RKO! Come on WWE don't let me down...I'm not going to hold my breath tbh.**

**Anywho, enjoy the story :)**

* * *

33 Years. 33 Years old today.

A birthday should be a happy occasion. A day that lifts your spirit, but Randy Orton wasn't feeling much joy or enthusiasm on his special day. He felt flat. Miserable even. He had been asked by one person about his sour mood that day and his reply was that he missed his wife and daughter.

A plausible excuse. Birthdays were a family occasion, but that wasn't what had Orton feeling deflated. Not even a birthday celebration in the ring after Raw finished airing; that came complete with a lavish cake and a sing song from his fellow colleagues and fans, improved his mood. Nor did a late night phone call in his locker room from Samantha and his daughter. It seemed nothing would lift the dark cloud hanging over his head.

Truth be told this wasn't a new development. He hadn't all of a sudden woke up on his 33rd year of life and turned into a unhappy man, he had been feeling that way for months.

It had taken him a while to pinpoint the exact reason, after all he hardly had cause to bemoan. He led a grand lifestyle. He had a loving family, a tremendously successful career in the biggest wrestling company in the world where he was a headline star and he wanted for nothing as money was no cause for concern.

Randy Orton had it all. So, why did he feel so damn empty and unfulfilled all of sudden?

Then it had hit him last week as he boarded another plane to the latest city that Raw would be entertaining on the non-stop whirlwind of the WWE schedule.

His life had become status quo.

Everything was the same week in and week out. He lived the same routine. It was like his existence was on a time loop and he couldn't break free from it.

It was monotonous; leave home, get on a plane, wrestle on Raw, tape Smackdown, fly home, get on a plane, appear on house shows, fly home, get on a plane...Wash, rinse and repeat!

At first he thought there was an obvious fix. He would find a new hobby, something to focus his time on, something he could really enjoy, but that didn't fill the void. There was no simple solution, and after months of living with that vacuum he had thrown in the towel and succumbed to his dull misery.

So, now on his birthday he sat alone in the hotel bar; an earlier invitation to hit a local club with Cena, Sheamus and the gang was denied, where he stewed over his mundane existence.

He wanted something new. No! He needed something new. Something exciting. Something that brought bright colour to his black and white world.

Randy threw his head back as he finished another bottle of beer unaware of the man stood directly behind him.

'Well, that is a lame sight to see.'

Randy knew that voice. He looked over his shoulder, confirmation attained. CM Punk looked at him almost sympathetically.

'What is the birthday boy drinking alone for?' Punk asked.

Randy groaned. He had no intention of revealing his inner turmoil to the Straight Edge Superstar, instead he settled on a shrug and turned back toward the bar. Punk clapped him on the shoulder, a rare friendly gesture as he sat on the stool to the left of Orton. Randy turned with surprise as Punk removed the hood from his hoodie, his shaved head coming into vision as he gained the barman's attention and ordered himself a Diet Pepsi along with the same beer that Orton had just polished off.

Orton cocked an eyebrow at the Chicagoan and Punk just smiled. 'What? It's your birthday gift.'

Randy scoffed. 'A whole beer? Wow, you're generous.' He joked.

'Ungrateful fucker.' Punk quipped back.

Randy let out a mild chuckle before playing absent mindedly with the damp label on the chilled green beer bottle in front of him that Punk had just bought for him. He thanked the man before taking a drink.

Punk registered Orton's less than happy exterior. He envisaged the Viper out partying into the early hours, not finding him sat alone in the crappy hotel bar. 'So, why aren't you out celebrating?'

'I didn't feel like it.' Randy replied, not giving much away.

'Oh, I see. I'm surprised you weren't forced.' Punk knew all too well how much pressure the fellow boys in the locker room can heap upon you. He had lost count the amount of times he told them no matter what he was never going to drink any alcohol, and it didn't matter how much many they wasted buying him pointless alcoholic beverages. Bunch of toolboxes!

'Cena tried.' Orton confirmed, proving Punk's theory correct. 'But I'm not really in a sociable mood.'

Punk nodded, he silently wondered if Orton was dropping a hint that he wished to drink in solitude. 'Wow, subtle.' Punk sarcastically replied.

Orton turned to him offering an apology in an instant and assured the Second City Saint that he didn't mean he wanted Punk to leave. It felt odd to Randy however, that the one person in the entire world who was keeping him company on his birthday was a man that he couldn't even categorise as a friend.

Punk and he had never been close, a friendship had never developed. They were casual acquaintances at the most and even that was stretching it a bit. In fact that very night in the bar was the longest they had ever spent time alone together.

There was the smallest hint of awkwardness, yet at the exact same time Randy felt comfortable in the Chicago natives company. Really comfortable. As if something was brewing. There was something in the air.

There was a momentary lull. Nothing was said. Orton peered out of the corner of his eye to see Punk taking a sip of his Pepsi, and he wondered what brought Punk here. Why was he alone tonight? It wasn't if the Voice of the Voiceless was short of friends.

'So, Punk, don't you have anything better to do with your time than sit in a hotel bar with me?'

'Well yeah, but you looked pathetic on your own so I thought I'd save you.' Punk jested.

'Gee, thanks.' Randy's own sarcasm coming out to play.

Punk simply shrugged. 'Truth's a bitch. But you shouldn't be alone on your birthday.'

'You actually feel sorry for me?' Randy queried.

'I wouldn't go that far.' Punk joked as he gulped down some more Diet Pepsi.

Randy chuckled at Punk and his light hearted exchange. He could be mistaken, but he swore he could feel his mood lifting a fraction.

'I guess you ducking the original question is because you don't want to tell me what is up with you?' Punk surmised.

'Who says there is anything wrong with me?' Randy claimed, desperate to retain his thinly veiled facade.

Punk raised an eyebrow. 'Seriously? How dumb do you think I am? It's clear to anyone and everyone with the power of sight that there is something going on in that crazy head of yours, Randal.' Punk stated matter of factly.

Randy felt surprise at Punk's statement. Was he really that obvious? He thought the mask he had plastered on his face had hid his feelings well. No one else bar Punk and Cena had questioned him, and even then Cena seemed to accept his answer and let it go. Punk though was being tenacious. Or maybe Punk was just supremely perceptive.

'You are only one of two people to have said a thing about it.' Orton revealed to his companion. 'And the other person accepted my answer of being fine.'

Punk simply shrugged. 'Then they're stupid. And maybe I'm just more perceptive than others.'

Randy almost choked on the mouthful of beer as Punk spoke the exact words that Randy heard in his own head mere seconds before. Randy Orton and CM Punk were on the same wave length? Randy Orton and CM Punk were on the same page?

Orton took a moment, a deep consideration of whether to reveal his troubles to the Second City Saint. He couldn't quite comprehend it, but right then and there he felt as though he could actually open up to Punk fully.

An absolute ridiculous notion!

There had been no connection formed in over six years, and now after one night of being alone with only each other for company Orton could all of a sudden trust and confide in Punk all of his woes.

What the hell?! Maybe Orton's budding honesty was due to the multiple beers he had consumed. Yes, blame it on the alcohol.

Orton was revived from his daze as Punk changed the subject, admitting defeat on getting to the bottom of Orton's sombre demeanour. 'So, are you pumped for Wrestlemania?'

Randy was glad of the reprieve. The prying eyes and questions had become almost too much to bare. No matter what Orton believed his troubles were his own, his own cross to bare and he would not be a burden on anyone else's life. It all rested on his shoulders to find a way past the rough patch. It was his quest to find the cure.

'Yeah, I think it will be a really good show.' Randy answered.

'Excited for your match?' Punk asked furthering the conversation.

Randy swallowed another mouthful of beer whilst nodding his head. 'Absolutely. The three of the guys in The Shield are excellent and fun to work with so I think we've got a great shot at stealing the show.'

Punk nodded along, he was in total agreement that the three men that comprised The Shield faction were tremendous wrestlers and entertainers and when up against established and accomplished stars like Big Show, Sheamus and of course Orton they obviously had the correct formula to tear the house down.

However, there was one point Punk contested. 'I think it will be an awesome match, but stealing the show?' Punk shook his head defiantly. Confidently. 'That would be Taker and me.'

Randy couldn't help but grin at the arrogance. Then he pondered whether arrogance was the correct term, after all Punk could back up his claim. Randy knew the talent and drive that Punk possessed in the squared circle.

'Wow, you think a lot of yourself.' Randy teased with a smirk.

'Best in the world.' Punk replied with a wink as he drank more of his beloved Pepsi.

A brief silence ensued and Randy decided to pick up the conversational ball, so to speak. 'How do you feel about working with Taker?'

Punk huffed out a sigh. His blunt approach may rub some people the wrong way, but that was who he was; he told it like it was. 'Double edged sword. On one hand it's a privilege. I mean, Undertaker _is_ Wrestlemania, and he always brings his A game. I know without a doubt the match will be incredible, but I just feel like there isn't a whole lot of suspense. Will anyone ever truly believe for a second that the streak will be broken?'

Randy understood every word. He recalled that the same thoughts that ran through his head back in 2005 when he faced The Deadman at Wrestlemania 21. Punk and his thoughts mirrored each other again. 'I get where you're coming from, but in my opinion your build up to the match has been intense, well thought out, it's gotten personal and I think it has raised doubts in peoples minds.'

'I hope so. As long as the match goes well I guess that's the main thing.' Punk reasoned.

'Are you pissed you're not in the main event though?' Randy asked, he silently cursed at himself for asking such a hot topic question. It was too late to take it back now though.

Punk paused as he raised his glass to his lips. He returned it to the top of the bar and stared at Orton. It was like a red rag to a bull in many ways. Punk held anger toward being overlooked, but he reigned it in and promised to not take it out on Orton right then and there.

Punk pondered the best way to answer. He couldn't let it all spill out, it would do his mood no good whatsoever. Eventually he settled on the non-committal answer. 'The less I say about that the better.'

Randy sent him a sympathetic smile. He could read between the lines. He couldn't really blame Punk for being irked. The man had carried the WWE Championship for 434 days, and during it regained the title its prestige that had long ago been destroyed and already some of it had been undone due to a part time champion. For well over a year Punk had carried the company on his back, yet had been overlooked and disrespected one too many times. And now at the biggest show of the year, and after that incredible history making reign he was overlooked again. It must've been a bitter slap in the face.

Randy actually felt sympathy for the man, he didn't let Punk know that though. The Voice of the Voiceless would probably loathe that and want to GTS him on the spot. But Randy knew if he was in Punk's shoes he would feel resentment. He would hold a grudge. In fact he admired Punk's level of restraint to be honest.

Randy felt a new level of understanding had been reached between Punk and himself, a fragile connection being forged almost. It was faint, barely registering, but it was there. Randy was met with the overwhelming need to explore it for reasons that were completely unattainable to him.

'I'd be pissed if I was in your place.' Orton declared.

Punk was shocked. Orton was on his side? Remarkable!

'Yeah, I think my anger is pretty justified. But whatever I'll just steal the show anyway despite not being the main event.' Punk stated with his characteristic confidence and positive mental attitude.

Randy nodded his head and chuckled lightly. 'Sounds like a plan.' He knew Punk and The Undertaker were capable and it was probable that they would. But he would give them a run for their money.

Punk gulped down the remainder of his Pepsi before looking intently at Randy in an almost studious fashion. Randy wanted to move away, it was if Punk was trying to worm his way inside his head and it made him wary.

Punk let out an almost disgruntled sigh. 'I give up.' Punk admitted. 'I can't figure it out. So, Randal, in the interest of fairness I've spilt the beans sort of on what's going on with me, now it's time to reciprocate.' Punk demanded.

Randy whined. Did he just walk straight into a trap? He certainly felt like he was locked in a vice unable to escape from Punk's curiosity. Why was Punk angling so hard for him to reveal his inner turmoil anyway?

'It's noth...'

'Bullshit!' Punk cut off Orton's denial immediately.

Randy took a breath. 'I've just got some stuff going on in my head, that's all.' Randy reluctantly revealed.

'Like what?' Punk relentlessly queried.

Randy groaned in irritation. 'Do you ever give up? Or get the hint?'

Punk smirked. 'Nope. And nope. Look all I'm saying is that if you get if off your chest you may feel better.'

'I doubt that.' Randy fired back pessimistically. He couldn't see any light at the end of that tunnel.

Punk sat there defiantly. Looking on expectantly for Randy to cave in.

Randy rolled his eyes. He finished his beer and turned to Punk. 'It's nothing really, I just feel a little fed up.'

'Fed up?' Punk questioned, not really following Orton's train of thought.

Randy sighed in defeat. He ran his palms down each side of his face, breathed in deeply in an effort to brace himself. He couldn't fathom why he felt like he could reveal this to CM Punk of all people, especially when he had tried and failed miserably to tell Cena, Sheamus and even his wife. All three people he was closer to by leaps and bounds. But there he sat on the verge of spilling his guts out to CM Punk.

That fragile connection was starting to strengthen. Trust being built in conjuncture with it.

'All right.' Orton prepared and calmed himself. 'Lately, I've just felt...bored I guess. I mean, my life is the same routine week in and week out. My life is on repeat, you know? And I know I shouldn't be feeling that way when I've got everything I ever dreamed of, but I do. And I've tried to break the chain, to stop the monotony, but nothing has worked. I just feel so fucking empty right now.'

Randy felt relief as it all rushed out of him. There was no shame. There was no worry that Punk would blab to anyone. Or mock him. Just a weird sense of trust and belief that something positive would come from this. He just had no clue as to what that may be.

Punk took it all in, hanging on every word that the Viper said. Clearly he had something plaguing his life, and the least Punk felt he could do was listen. And from what Orton was saying Punk could actually relate in a sense.

'I can understand that. I feel I'm in the same boat almost.' Punk declared.

'Really?'

'Yeah, it just feels like your stuck on a carousel and you can't get off because the damn thing never slows down. So, you just keep going around in circles.' Punk explained, and it was exactly how Randy felt deep down inside.

'That's exactly it! So, how do you break it and get off the fucking carousel?' Randy was practically begging for an answer, anything to stop feeling so damn empty.

'Well, what I've learnt to do is to take matters into my own hands. Like I said, I'm kind of in the same boat, but it's not the exact same thing. Basically I feel like I'm being held down by the company, like at this years Wrestlemania. So, I can either stew on it and get mad or I can take matters into my own hands. I know what I've chosen to do and that's steal the show. My match is what everyone will be talking about come Monday. All you've got to do is find something. Figure out what excites you. Take matters into your own hands.'

Randy sighed. Punk's philosophy made sense, but there was one flaw. 'That's what I've tried to do, but nothing changed I still felt completely empty.'

'Then you haven't found the right thing yet.' Punk stated.'It took me years to find the right thing, and that ended up being the pipe bomb. After years and years of pent up frustration I finally let it all out in that original pipe bomb. And that was what taught me to take control.'

Randy listened to Punk intently, a new found admiration was unearthed. The determination, the guts, the talent, everything the Straight Edge Superstar possessed Orton respected in him.

'What do you need Randy?' Punk asked.

Randy knew. 'I need something new. Something exciting. Something that makes me feel like I'm bouncing off the walls in anticipation.'

Orton bared his soul and then when he looked up he was astonished at the emotion that coursed through his veins. Struck by the force of lightning. Beautiful, intense, green eyes enveloped him, a shiver ran down his spine, a stark contrast to the heat that flushed his face. His blood pounded in his head as their gazes locked. A familiar tightening in his groin followed.

Could that really be what he was missing? Was that what he was looking for? It couldn't be!

But then Punk's tongue ran over his thin lips and the metal ring glimmered in the light and Randy was hypnotised. His heart pounded threatening to explode out of its cage. His palms were sweating. His legs trembling uncontrollably like leaves on a tree in the unforgiving and merciless wind.

Randy could read a clear story in Punk's eyes. It matched his own. Something definitely hung in the air between them. Something tangible, something so thick they could almost taste it. Gorgeous temptation.

Their body language made it crystal clear. Their heated and intense gaze spoke volumes. No words were truly needed. The picture they had painted spoke a thousand words and more.

The connection between them was fully formed and the sparks began to fly.

...

As soon as they were through his hotel room door Punk and he met in the middle of a collision as passion erupted from the both of them. Randy gasped for much needed oxygen as he ended the kiss, his head was spinning with all these new sensations and feelings that overtook his body.

Kissing Punk, a man, felt so foreign, it was more harsh and rough than kissing a woman, yet he found it just as enjoyable. Maybe even more so. The scrape of Punk's facial hair against his own even felt great. All that hard muscle that he clung to as he gripped onto Punk's arms and back when they kissed made him moan into the Second City Saints mouth lustily. Randy couldn't hide his arousal, a clear outline of his impressive manhood was prominent in his jeans.

Punk's own arousal was clearly visible in his sweat pants. He too was breathing deeply in need of air to appease his lungs. He wasn't sure how he found himself here. How far would he let this go? He was flirting with the rules of his straight edge lifestyle, he knew that. He knew he was living dangerously cavorting with not only a colleague, but a very male colleague at that. Had he lost his mind? Punk wasn't sure. But his body was crying out to touch and taste every inch of Randy Orton's body.

The voices in Orton's mind were loud and frantic. A myriad of voices were yelling different things. He was conflicted. He knew this wasn't a good idea. He had a wife. A marriage to think of. But ever since he met Punk's eyes in the bar he knew that what he needed to erase that void deep inside him was CM Punk. It was startling. It was alarming. But on the reverse it was new. It was exciting. It was everything he was missing. Everything he yearned for. Everything he believed would fill the emptiness.

'No one can know about this.' Randy made it clear as he looked over the dishevelled Punk.

Punk guffawed, a wry smile on his features. 'Do you really think I'll shout it out for everyone to hear?'

Orton was torn. Was he hurt by Punk's apparent shame in what they were sharing together, or was he relieved that Punk agreed with him that whatever happens between them would be between them and no one else?

'Why are you doing this?' Randy asked. He knew why he was, but he was clueless why Punk was. Not to mention despite his limited knowledge on the straight edge way of life he knew Punk didn't engage in promiscuous sex, so why was he going along with this?

'Why?' Punk asked, as he neared the coiled Viper.

Eyes latched onto one another and Randy's breath got lodged in his throat at the intense lust induced gaze of Punk. He regained his composure. 'Yeah. Why? You could have any woman. So, why are you here with me?'

Punk didn't blink. Not breaking the eye contact for even a fraction of a second. He zoned in on Randy. 'Maybe because I have my own emptiness to fill. And right now, right here, you're all I want. You're all I need.'

Punk crashed his lips onto Orton's again. Punk ran his tongue along the seam of Orton's lips. Begging for entry. Access was instantly granted. Tongues swirled together, and hands clutched onto clothing, as nails scraped over skin.

Punk pulled at Randy's shirt, and getting the hint Randy broke the kiss as Punk removed his tee-shirt, and Punk's followed. Clothes were quickly strewn everywhere; shoes, socks, jeans, sweat pants and underwear.

Naked skin met naked skin as Randy's tanned body cast a shadow over Punk's as he leant over Punk's smaller frame and kissed him hungrily. Punk's hands greedily ran from Orton's strong shoulders, rippling down his strong back before kneading the flesh of the globes of Randy's ass.

Randy's own hands trailed over the decorated chest of his lover, whilst his mouth peppered kisses over Punk's neck and jawline before engaging in another breath stealing kiss. All the hard taut muscles were a stark contrast to what either man associated with sex, but it felt even more appealing and arousing than a female body ever did. They were riding high on passion and lust, lost in their own secret world.

Punk took control and forced Randy onto his back and as Randy locked his thighs around Punk's slender waist and brought Punk closer to his body their cocks brushed together for the first time. Randy gasped his eyes widening as he felt a hard, pulsating and leaking cock touch his own for the first time in his life.

It felt amazing. Different, but amazing. Life changing.

Punk kissed his way down Orton's chiselled chest and abdomen. A silent query of was Orton made of stone made him smirk before he kissed so far down Orton's body that he came eye level to Randy's most intimate area. Orton was indeed impressive all over, and despite the lack of experience in the area Punk had no reservations about taking things further. Even though he probably should have, but he was caught up in the moment. Caught up in Randy Orton.

Punk took hold of Randy's throbbing member at the base and tentatively took his first taste of another man. To his surprise he wasn't disgusted at the flavour. In fact Randy tasted incredible, and his first taste of Orton was followed by another and another until he felt confident enough to take him into his mouth. He sucked gently on the bulbous leaking head and he was delighted in the quiet moan that escaped his lover.

Feeling Punk's mouth on his dick was the most intense and arousing feeling Randy had ever had in his now 33 years of life. Just the knowledge that it was a man making him feel such wonderful feelings made it all the more special and potent. He raised his hips gently as Punk took him back inside the warm wet cavern of his mouth and Randy took the risk of looking down his body to take at look at Punk's work. If the feeling was incredible, than the sight was absolutely insane. His dick throbbed uncontrollably, he felt more pre-cum leak from the head and the resultant moan from Punk as the taste danced on his tongue turned Randy on to an even more dangerous level.

So far sex with Punk had triumphed over any sex he had with a woman and alarmingly that thought didn't scare Randy Orton in the slightest. He was basking in their shared experience, he was revelling in it.

Punk had found his feet, and was now eagerly taking more of Orton's length into his mouth. He found the act such a turn on, the musky scent of Orton's intimate area was like an assault on his senses and Punk found himself rubbing his own rock hard dick against the bed sheets beneath him desperate for any kind of stimulation.

With increased confidence in his skill at giving Orton head, Punk dared to deep throat Orton and as his nose met Orton's pelvis he heard the most salacious and delicious moan escape from Randy, and fuck did he want to hear it again. He took Randy all the way inside over and over until his throat felt raw and his eyes were watering, during which Randy's moans got so loud the people in the next room must've heard quite the show. Feeling Orton come undone beneath him, enjoying himself so much because of what he was doing was like a rush he had never felt before. He couldn't explain it. For once he was at a loss for words.

Punk started to lick and suck gently at Randy's sack as his fist glided easily up the saliva and pre-cum soaked shaft of Orton. He could hear soft whimpers and moans still emanating from the Apex Predator and it was music to his ears.

Randy thrashed his head from side to side. One hand gripped the sheets so tightly in a fist that his knuckles turned white. The other hand meanwhile cradled Punk's shaved head a thumb affectionately stroking back and forth. Then Orton's eyes shot open as he felt Punk's tongue drift into the crack of his ass. Randy stared up at the blank white ceiling as he felt Punk's hands push his thighs wider. He could feel cool air hit his opening as Punk spread his cheeks and then he forgot to breath as a soft wet tongue laved against his hole.

Now that was most definitely something new!

Punk wondered if he was going to far, or moving too fast, but as his tongue ran over Orton's opening again and again the Viper made no objections. In fact, Orton parted his thighs and raised his legs higher to give Punk easier access to his pink pucker. So, emboldened by Randy's forwardness Punk pushed his tongue inside gently as he licked and kissed at Orton's virginal hole.

Randy couldn't believe he was enjoying this so damn much, but he unquestionably was. And not only was he enjoying it, he wanted more. So much more. He wondered if Punk could read his mind because he instantly felt a finger push inside his ass and he bit his lip as Punk plunged the digit in up to the knuckle. It felt so foreign. So weird. Yet absolute heaven.

Punk watched on enthralled as he saw Randy's ass take another finger inside his tight heat. Punk couldn't believe how tight Randy was, but the feeling of the hot velvet walls surrounding his fingers made his heart stop as he wondered how great it would feel to have his dick inside instead.

Randy felt Punk remove his fingers. He wondered what was coming next. He knew what he wanted. He then saw Punk come into view. He raised his head from the pillow to meet Punk's lips as they engaged in a passion fueled kiss. Randy could see the question on Punk's face and he nodded his head in confirmation. He wrapped his thick thighs around Punk's waist and he waited with bated breath.

Punk lined himself up with Randy's ass-hole and he pushed gently. The head of his cock quickly breached the tight ring and Punk almost growled at the sensation. He pushed slowly, inch by inch his cock moved deeper and the warmth of Randy's tight ass was pure intoxication.

Randy bit his lip, the pain of entry was severe, but not unbearable. Finally he felt Punk's hips rest against his ass and he knew Punk was all the way inside. A warmth spread throughout him from his head to his toes and he was overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation. He had willingly let himself be penetrated by another man. By CM Punk. He was engaging in sex with CM Punk. Staggeringly not only did he feel no regrets, he felt like he had never had sex this great in his entire life. And he was more than ready for it to truly begin. He leant up and kissed Punk's lips and told the Second City Saint he was ready.

Punk was too, and he slowly withdrew. The tight ring of muscle of Randy's pucker stretched around his thick shaft and it was absolutely fantastic. He pushed back in and Randy's entire channel clenched around him and the friction made his toes curl and his whole body turn rigid.

Randy's body was electrified. Both Punk and he were setting off fireworks all over the room and he dared to look down his body and the sight of Punk's thick long shaft disappearing inside of his ass was one he thought he would never want to see in his life, but undoubtedly it was the most arousing and awe inspiring sights his blue eyes had ever seen. He felt so full. So complete. So...It was hard to convey exactly what he was feeling in his heart and head.

Punk sensed this wouldn't last long, the vice like grip of Randy ass was driving him crazy and the way Orton was now meeting his thrusts halfway creating a sick noise as flesh met flesh with a slap and Randy's delectable moans were making his dick throb harder and harder.

Randy's own dick was still hard as a rock and leaking pools of pre-cum on his toned stomach. Then suddenly Randy felt something fucking sensational. Punk pushed in hard and there was that feeling again. His whole body tensed and shuddered and he knew what was happening. Punk was hitting his prostate and now Orton was teetering on the edge of orgasm. His dick twitched violently and hit his chiselled abdomen with a slap. Randy took his cock in hand and jerked off at a frenetic pace desperate to find his impending release.

Punk felt Randy's hole convulse around him time and time again and he knew that he had found his special spot. He was relentless as he focussed on hitting that spot, the desperate need to give Randy unmatched pleasure, to give Randy an earth shattering orgasm the likes of which he had never felt before. Punk too felt his climax near as his balls tightened and tingled. Then a large palm grabbed hold of one of his glorious round ass cheeks and pushed him harder into Orton's ass.

Randy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he threw his head back as he forced Punk in harder and his lover nudged his prostate again, his dick twitched and throbbed in his palm and he felt his end arrive.

'Oh, fuck! Punk, I'm gonna cum!' Randy huskily whispered.

His words morphed into a moan as Punk nailed his sweet spot again, and he was forced into the most amazing orgasm of his entire life. His thick cum spurted from his cock eliciting deep guttural moans from deep within. His whole body was rocked by the force of his climax as pools and pools of thick pearly cum decorated his chest and abdomen.

As Randy crashed into his orgasm Punk soon followed. Orton's clenched hole gripped tightly creating the most delicious friction along his entire shaft and Punk's eyes fell upon Randy's pleasure slacked face and in that moment Punk swore he had never seen beauty like that before. A moan of Randy's name fell from his lips as he shot his load deep inside. Randy tightened his thighs pulling Punk's body flush against his not wanting it to end.

Punk moaned and breathed deeply into the pillow that Randy rested upon. Both their chests were heaving, their heartbeats racing at the exertion. They were sweating profusely and trembling at the aftershocks of such a mind numbing, body melting climax.

Punk finally moved his head from the pillow, his eyes met Randy's and there was no regret in them whatsoever. He looked down at the smeared remnants of Randy's release that was now on Orton's and his stomachs. He leant down and licked at the cum on Orton's nipple, relishing the taste on his tongue. His softening dick slipped free of Randy's ass and Punk collapsed beside Randy on the bed.

All was silent. Only laboured breathing made a sound. Tension began to build inside Punk. What could be said? Should he ask if Randy was okay? Should he of asked during? Talking during the act felt way too intense at the time. Too real. Oh shit! This was a mistake. A colossal mistake.

Having sex with a man was never on his agenda, let alone having sex with Randy Orton. The lust filled haze had dissipated fully and he could see clearly now. He made an error in judgement. This wasn't going to work out well. In a matter of minutes he expected Orton to turn ferocious and tell him to fuck off as soon as the Viper returned back down to earth. The countdown was on. So, Punk decided to do what he always did. He took control.

'I should go.' Punk mumbled as he sat up, his feet meeting the soft carpet as he perched on the edge of the bed with his naked back toward Randy as he desperately searched for his underwear and other items of clothing.

Before he could begin a more detailed search a strong large hand grasped his shoulder. A warm chest moulded to his sweaty back. The mattress dipped behind him and a breath ghosted over the skin on the nape of his neck. A gentle kiss on his temple.

'But there's still ten minutes left of my birthday. You said I shouldn't be alone on my birthday.' A deep, sensual whisper rumbled in his ear.

Punk looked over his shoulder seeing the gorgeous specimen that he had just had mind blowing sex with. The spark was still ignited. Fireworks were bouncing off the walls, off the ceiling, off the mirror, and the windows, the spark inhabited both men.

He proceeded to look over at the clock, there was indeed still ten minutes before the clock struck midnight and April 1st was over. And Randy Orton's birthday would be over. He still knew it wasn't wise, but what had happened between them had set something off inside of him. Punk knew it. He felt it. By Randy's behaviour, he suspected Randy may feel it too.

Randy guided Punk back into bed under the crisp white cotton sheets, and Punk didn't put up a fight. Both Punk and Orton knew it may not have been the wisest choice to make that night, but they were slaves to their desires, and it was undeniable that they desired each other.

Lips caressed lips. Soft skin glided against soft skin. Hard muscles collided with hard muscles. Lust filled eyes met with lust filled eyes.

As strong thighs wrapped around Orton's waist an epiphany hit him. Realisation sunk in. It may have come in the most unlikely package, but it was undeniable. There was no longer a void. No vacuum. Orton felt the butterflies in his stomach, although for the last hour they felt more like swooping eagles, and he felt tingles all over the surface of his bronzed skin. The excitement bolted through him like white lightning.

He hadn't felt this alive and this much adrenaline in his system for such a long time. The sparks between Punk and himself were vibrant and explosive. Their connection now more closely resembled a swirling inferno.

Punk was his antidote to the empty void in his heart and soul. He had finally found what he was longing for.

All on a Birthday to Remember.

...


End file.
